


humbled.

by Prettything_uglylie



Series: The 100 [20]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM Scene, Bottom John Murphy (The 100), Come Eating, Come Marking, Embarrassment, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Objectification, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Pump Gags, Sadism, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Smut, Spreader Bars, Threats of Pain, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, also damn sounds really kinky and it uh may be, consensual tho, wanted to post this on its own lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: While Bellamy and Clarke have their friends over for a movie night, Murphy hides in the bedroom - just not entirely on purpose.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin/John Murphy, Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Series: The 100 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1275407
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	humbled.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make this into its own little ficlet and I uh, hope you like it!   
> I guess you can tell I was rereading Three People With Their Shoes Off (an incredible collection of clurphamy smut fic that you should check out if you haven't!) and wanted to get them off my writing list lol.  
> This also ended up being very clurphy-centric, mostly an accident but I'm content with it and kind of like it a lot tbh! Hope you like it!

The humbler fits between his thighs too well and the gag is pumped too big so it is a comparison of something that is comfortable that he'll miss and something uncomfortable he won't when taken out and off. The humbler is there to affirm that he can't press his legs together to try and alleviate the contact while the pump gag is pushed hard enough to fill his mouth to make sure the others don't hear him. 

A pointless twinge of hope hits where embarrassment might have an hour ago when he hears footsteps outside of their bedroom and Clarke's voice laughing out, "Just gotta go, you know?" 

The voice that responds to her sounds like Raven and god, it makes his whole chest flush knowing that a girl equivalent to his sister is close enough that she could hear him moan if the gag wasn't so blown up. Clarke enters their bedroom carefully, making sure no one sees him and he is grateful for small mercies. 

She loves to tease and humiliate him though so he's almost surprised she doesn't leave the door open all the way or put him on a leash and walk him around their living room in front of their friends - he hates that the idea makes his already sore cock twitch against the persistent buzz of the vibrator. It must be Bellamy's orders not to embarrass him too badly or a least not to embarrass him enough that they'd need a new friend group. 

As she makes sure the bedroom door is properly shut, she turns slowly - drama queen he craves to tease but knows he'd only get punished for it - but when she turns, the thrilled look in her eyes makes him flush again. Sometimes Clarke looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky or like he's the best Christmas gift in the world when he's sprawled out like this and feels like an idiot, and it always messes with his brain. On one hand, he hates feeling like an idiot, on the other, Clarke looks at him like that and on _another_ hand, it turns him on to feel like an idiot like nothing else. 

She looks at the frankly embarrassing amount of cum coating his chest and stomach from where the vibrator is tied against his cock and he knows she knows he still has the vibrator inside of him from when she had watched Bellamy bend him over the edge of the bed and slick him up to take the other vibrating toy into his body. It's cruel and all three of them know it and all three of them like it. 

Clarke's sky blue eyes glance over him and he wonders what she thinks for a moment before she praises, "Pretty boy, pretty boy." in a tone that is very clearly teasing but also fond and oddly genuine. It hits him somewhere in the chest that makes his already overheated body flush and also lose the ability to breathe properly for a second. 

His hips jerk. She chuckles. 

"You'd think you'd cum enough to not want another go at it, huh?" She starts and he tries to make a noise behind the gag, not because he thinks she'll understand him, mostly just for the novelty of the situation. She laughs again as she runs her pointer and middle finger through a trail of his cum to move up to brush it across his cheekbone. 

He winces away on instinct and she smiles like he's a particularly amusing cat that can't behave itself. She presses a glass against their nightstand, one he hadn't even realized she brought in so he begins to count his observation skills as out the window and suddenly the shock on both his dick and inside of him dies, drawing a whine from his throat that he hates. She moves onto the bed, eyes still brightly lit and undeniably cruel and beautiful and Murphy wants to choke her out as much as he wants to kiss her and pet her hair. Clarke tucks herself between his held open thighs, completely dressed and unbothered looking to his sweet, heat-soaked desperation - it does him in badly. 

Slowly the pressure of the dildo pump begins to deflate inside of his cheeks and he hates that he misses it, eyes going a bit glassy at the loss of something that he's grown so accustomed to. Clarke notices this and makes a noise of fake pity, leaning forward to run a hand through his fringe even as she continues to push the pump down but she smothers a laugh to taunt, "Would just rip it out of your mouth but I don't think even your big mouth could deal with that kind of damage." 

They make such a masochist of him, he's sure when he thinks that he wants her to try it. He's almost sure he wasn't this much of a pain-driven masochist before they met him and started to entertain his most painful and humiliating fantasies. 

His hips jerk and she laughs again, a cycle neither is too determined to change. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She teases, petting the hand from his fringe to his jaw, "If I just pulled this from your mouth. Like you're a little doll that I'm so eager to have my hands on I don't care if I break it?" 

His cock twitches unfairly against the limp vibrator and his whine is audible, the gag small enough that she eases out of his mouth with such care that his stomach rolls with the effort. She snorts and presses a kiss to his bruised and no longer hidden mouth before leaning away and saying affectionately, "Couldn't do that to you. We love you too much for that." 

He doesn't know what makes him say it, maybe having her this close or the new freedom that he can finally talk but as she reaches over to grab the glass of water, he rasps, voice completely wrecked, "I'd let you." 

She grinds down against where she's moved up to his stomach to reach the glass and where she straddles, he thinks he feels her grind her wetness against him or he's just sweating a lot, or it's raining on them both indoors, who even knows anymore? 

Her eyes are only fond, full of that kind of messy love that makes his chest ache and his palms sweaty, and she presses the glass to his lips. He drinks in big gulps, lets the water's coolness slip down his throat and rest in his chest to make him feel not so heat-stricken (he had had heat-stroke before, and Clarke had been there too, best friends since childhood, and she had cared for him then too but this time she and Bellamy are the ones making his whole body too hot). She takes it carefully from his lips when he's drained the whole thing and feeling better, like he could run a marathon - if the marathon is maybe to their bathroom and back to the bed in a mild crawl. He feels a bit better though. 

"You're so good to me," he pretends to swoon, voice aiming for Southern Belle but landing on scratchy and actually graceful. She looks down at him, infinitely bemused and that's how they had become friends so young, he had made her laugh and wants to spend the rest of his life doing it and hopefully Bellamy too, because he's addicted to them both and it's embarrassing that he lets them do this to him and loves it so much and he can't imagine it being anyone else. She pokes the vibrator nuzzling his cock gracelessly before firming out, 

"You know I'm the one with control over this, right?" _Like that's any less reason to like her,_ he thinks ignorantly, _like he isn't just as smitten by the Princess he met in first grade as he is by the cruel women studying martial arts and majoring in art classes who ties him up for four hours while their friends are over._

He is. He's absolutely smitten, with her, with Bellamy, with their wicked minds. He wants to kiss them both on the mouth in gratitude for this. 

He nods, smile small but all he can manage. She grins and rolls her eyes before pressing a kiss to his forehead and leaning to check the ties on his hands in order to make sure he's not cutting off circulation, her boobs in his face. He's a brat and she knows him well enough so neither of them pretends to be surprised when he leans forward to sink his teeth lightly into the flesh exposed there. His teeth are still on her when she sighs and looks at him like he's an annoying pest, "That's a bad boy, Murphy." 

He makes sure their blue eyes connect before biting down hard enough to draw blood to the skin without breaking it and she yipes, smacking her hand against the top of his head in a cruel display of domination and a bit of friendly roughhousing. 

"Should know better." He teases in that same tone she had used with him when explaining this idea that Bellamy had been grinning ear-to-ear about. 

She looks at him like she can't believe his attitude but they have been friends since they were children so there's no real way she can be surprised by it either. Clarke leans down to his face, pressing their foreheads together and his stomach jumps, she looks so powerful up close like this, and then threatens, "Don't make me put Lincoln or Miller in here, let them have a go at you before Bellamy comes in here and fucks your ass tonight. You're gonna love that, huh? When Bellamy fucks you until you come for the, _what?_ eighth time?" 

He lost track at four but it feels forever ago and he thinks she might be right. He doesn't have an answer for her. 

"Maybe I should let Raven in here, tell her to ride your dick or if you can't get this cute little thing back up," she strokes a hand over his stupid, sensitive dick that spurts a bit of cum like a warning sign, or like it too loves when Clarke humiliates him, "let her beat on you a little. That never falls to make you hard, does it, boy?" 

Her voice is a whole new level of condescending that makes him feel like she's talking to a dog, to an animal, something below animal intelligence. It makes his cock twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again. 

She pulls at his ties a little to give his arms more slack before she starts to trace the plastic of the vibrator like she can't wait to turn it back on - She probably can't, the sadist. He loves her. He loves Bellamy. He wishes they'd never let him out of this position. 

"What's your safeword?" Clarke asks, teasing gone and eyes hard in the way that he knows she wants answers.

Still, he backtalks, "Does it matter?" 

Her tone is firm and she persists, "What's your safeword?" 

"Lemonade." It's a sigh, an embarrassing story about Beyonce that he and Bellamy had found too funny when they were high once. But it makes her smile and his heart does that annoying skip again: maybe these are signs of a heart attack, he thinks. 

"And if you click the button," She guides him into finishing and he almost remembers with a jolt that he has a button in his hands that reminds him of a garage door opener. To be fair, his hands and the rest of his body except his jaw, cock, and ass have been numb since about half an hour in. He also didn't even think about using it. 

He deadpans, "it will alert the app on your phone that makes it look like a phone call and you'll come get me." 

She beams, his heart does that annoying thing and she kisses the corner of his mouth before praising, "Good boy." 

His cock jumps stupidly. 

Clarke's hands pluck at the pump gag only vaguely moved off of his face before asking, tone even, that tone she uses when she doesn't want him to pick one because he thinks she wants him to, "Do you want it blown up a little or really big?" 

He considers it. She's probably caring for him a little here, knows that his jaw will ache and crack tomorrow when he moves it or whenever he is ungagged but he wants it to. 

"Really big," he decides with the best shrug he can manage, "Wanna not be able to talk tomorrow without feeling it." 

She looks concerned but his certainty must outweigh her pause because she slips it into his mouth and pumps it four extra times than the last time until his head feels like it's going to explode and his jaw already burns. Tears pop up in his eyes but she watches him and he doesn't signal to her he regrets it - he doesn't, wants them to break his jaw with it really. Okay, so maybe he has to admit he's always been a masochist but it's fine. 

Clarke flicks both vibrators back on after crawling off of him and he can't even make a noise the gag is so big so he lets his feet kick out as much as he can, the skin of his cock rubbed raw by the vibrator's remorseless torment. It feels more powerful after the reprieve, he loves it. 

Before she leaves, Clarke pauses, seeming to notice on something before asking, "What are these on your thighs? ...Are they scratch marks?" 

He nods, trying his best not to feel like an idiot but failing while she pesters him. 

"Bellamy?" She asks unnecessarily because no one but her and Bellamy would ever touch him like that but he nods anyway, feeling like his brain bounces around his head at the motion, kicked into the back by how full he is of the pump. 

She hums smiling, "Bet you liked that. Bellamy coming in here, probably bitched about how much he wanted to fuck you already, scratched up your thighs," it's scary how well she knows them both, then she notes the cum between his thighs, "this isn't yours," their girl, could put Sherlock Holmes out of business, "did Bellamy jerk off between your thighs? Telling you how much he wanted to pull this vibrator from your ass? Fuck you while you screamed?" 

She jabs her finger into the vibrator inside of him, sending it pushed into the wall opposite his prostate and his whole body shakes with the new sensation as he nods, desperate for her to leave him alone and not and pester him all at once. 

"You just got Bellamy in trouble." Her voice seems leading but he blinks at her, unapologetic and she grins, "Vengeful little thing." 

She leaves but as she approaches the door she commands, "Try to cum a few more times. I'll make you eat it while Bellamy fucks you later." 

He shakes in his restraints and counts the seconds until they come back in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this!! Kudos and comments are adored and I think Murphy is not the only one with a praise kink so feed me please!


End file.
